


Doubt Truth To Be a liar; But Never Doubt I Love

by Feran_Sensei



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Heartbreak, Loss of Faith, M/M, Questioning, Slow Burn, Templar Carver Hawke, Unrequited Love, but he's really a super soft and confused boy, conflicted af, fall from grace, hmmm, sebastian acts like he's confident, this prolly be a long boy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 06:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20756186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feran_Sensei/pseuds/Feran_Sensei
Summary: Sebastian Vael is a man of faith. Prayer, contemplation, devotion--there's nothing he wouldn't do for the glory of his Maker. Priest by trade, and prince only by name.But he's also a friend, and he can't help but question whether he's doing the right thing. Can't help but wonder what secrets hide behind those luscious black lashes and glinting amber eyes.So is it really his faith that guides him? Or is it the idea of getting closer to the sly little Hawke who he just can't seem to keep his eyes off of?





	1. Daydream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Field snooze  
Garrett is like YO  
Sebastian is bad at making friends  
Not the horse, dammit!  
Isabela is in thot mode  
Merrill is distracted by--oh is that a flower?  
Heh heh saddle burn  
Complete self-indulgence on my end  
Oh btw, there's a festival going on. That's prolly important.

“There was no word, for heaven nor for earth, for sea nor sky.

All that existed was silence.

“Then the voice of the _ Maker _ rang out,

The first word,

And his Word became all that might be:

Dream and idea, hope and fear,

Endless possibilities.”

“And from it made his firstborn.

And he said to them :

In _ My _ image I forge you,

To you I give dominion

Over all that exists.

By your will

May all things be done.”

-Chant of Light

\---

He was a simple man. Or at least he liked to think so.

There was nothing he needed that the Maker could not provide. There was no amount of wanton desire that outweighed the love of his Divine. No amount of gold nor fame, no titles or worldly treasures.

They were the little things, he realised. Like now, lying on a grass field near the Dalish camp in Sundermount, summer buzzing as the sparrows chirped wildly in the evergreens--the little things were worth more than anything man could give him, even if that something was being a prince.

_ They can keep their throne. _

All his time spent torn between his people and his faith and all it took was a single stranger to make up his mind, a few words from a threadbare man and he decided to stay. The Maker works in mysterious ways indeed.

Sebastian sighed softly to himself as he shifted his intertwined hands over his chest. His eyes were closed, the sun’s warmth soaking into his skin as he lie in silence. There was a soft breeze rustling the grass, causing it to tickle the side of his face and he smiled, turning his head sideways to lean into the sensation and smell the rich soil. He could feel a tiny bug making its way across his ear, but he didn’t bother to swat it away, only leaned in closer to the earth.

_ When there was no sky, Maker you were my sky. _

There was just something so right about doing nothing. After long days spent kneeling in the chantry, reciting prayer after prayer, then swept away late in the evening by Hawke when he was needed-- “no questions, just hurry”--it was almost uncanny how relaxing a moment of nothingness beneath the clouds was. Just to sit and think. No hurry. No rush. No divine quest waiting to be completed.

“Well, someone certainly seems busy.” A heavy set of footsteps thumped ineloquently through the grass and up the small hill towards him. He opened his eyes, turning his head and squinting to see who was approaching.

“Hawke.” He greeted, and the man dropped himself tiredly beside him, stretched his legs out straight, and watched as the sun glinted off of his iron legplates. Sebastian’s armour shone gallantly, almost blinding when he looked, but the metal was slightly heated against his skin and was like a pocket of warmth he could lie in.

“You know, Merrill was right when she said your armour is really shiny.” Garrett placed a hand on his shoulder then knocked lightly against his breastplate. Sebastian chuckled at the sound, pulling himself up to sit next to him as he brushed a hand through his hair.

“Aye, I suppose it is.” He smiled, taking in another deep breath as a breeze passed by, “Though Varric says it makes me look like...a lacquered whale I think he said?” Garrett smirked at him for a brief moment before bursting out in a boisterous laugh. Sebastian watched him--Garrett’s eyes wrinkled and his nose scrunched as he leaned his weight onto one arm--chuckling to himself. They both stared off at the faraway tree line, admiring the mountain lined sky as their laughter died down.

“I don’t see it. But honestly, a whale? I wasn’t expecting that.” He wiped at his eyes and Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well I have put on a few pounds, so I really can’t blame him for seein’ a big whale. I must look like an elephant from far away!” Garrett looked at him with a grin then punched his arm.

“An elephant that shines! What a sight would that be? Maybe I could ride you around Lowtown at night so I can see where I’m going.” He snickered, “That’d scare off all those cultists running about, I’m sure. Honestly though, if you’re fat then I’m the bride of the Maker.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re not Andraste, Garrett.” The other only frowned, faking offence.

“No? I thought the beard was a dead giveaway!” He rubbed his chin, staring at Sebastian with big, hopeful eyes. He only smiled and looked back out at the sky as a single bird flew high above them. They sat in silence for a moment, and Sebastian couldn’t help but thank the Maker for sending him to Kirkwall.

“But yes, I did come over here for a reason. We’re heading back to Kirkwall. Sorry to interrupt your daydreaming and all that, but I figured you’d miss me if I just left you here all alone.” He smiled.

“No, it’s alright, Hawke.” He stretched, pulled himself up from the ground, grabbed his bow and holstered it, then offered a hand to Garrett, “I think I was about done here anyway.”

“About that, what were you even doing out here? This is an awfully long walk from the Dalish camp.” Garrett brushed off his legs, smacking his backside enthusiastically to brush off the dirt, then rubbed his nose once he stood. With a slight smirk, they both started back towards the group.

“It’s not actually that far away, ya know.” But Garrett yawned, making a noise of disagreement, “It’s just over the hill.”

“Yes, over the hill! Then halfway down the main road, take a side path, trudge through some grass and bugs and dirt, thirty more paces north, then look for the rock marked by a crested falcon…” He waved his hand sarcastically as he talked, “I didn’t know where you’d run off to. Isabela said you were chasing a pretty little elvhen girl into the woods.” Sebastian scoffed.

“And you believed her?”

“I thought I’d see for myself.” Garrett chuckled under his breath, bending down to pick a small meadow flower and twirl it between his fingers.

“Isabela is far more likely to run off with an elvhen girl than me.” But Garrett just turned to smile at him, something too sweet to be a smirk but not quite without sarcasm.

“Oh, you never know.” He handed the small purple bud to him and he took it softly, the flower seeming far too delicate for his long, calloused fingers.

Sebastian held the fragile thing, tucking it in one of his pouches as they approached the main road where Isabela and Merrill were waiting for them.

“Oh!” Merrill perked up when she saw them, “Back already? And you’ve found Sebastian!” Garrett smiled at her, rubbing her arm amicably as he greeted them.

“Thank goodness too!” He beamed bubbly, throwing him a lopsided grin, “He was so helpless when I found him! He had no idea how he got out there in the first place. It was rather pitiful really.” Sebastian smiled, scrunching his brow confused at the dark-haired jester. He bit the inside of his cheek. Hawke’s casual jabs and friendly insults to his companions were no big deal; that’s just who he was and they all knew that, but Sebastian always hated being the spotlight around the others. Attention was something he was used to, but it was clear none of Hawke’s other friends liked him. Or understood him or cared to. Nor respected his choices. And it was likewise. The “friends” Garrett spent most of his time around weren’t exactly admirable people: blood mages and thieves, the lot of them.

“Oh sweetie,” Isabela giggled as she walked over to him and draped herself haphazardly across his shoulder. Sebastian only stood rigid, his smile fading into a small frown, “Have you been sneaking drinks again? I told you to count me in next time.” He tried to casually step away, but she wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing her lips close to his cheek to give him a small kiss. He could feel her smiling against his skin and an irritated knot formed in his stomach. He lifted a hand to pry her fingers off him, trying his best not to seem rude, but she swatted at his arm, smirking slyly as she leaned more of her weight onto him.

“I do not drink. You know that.”

“Oh right, I forgot. You’re a Saint.” And she said it with such sensuality that it was almost venomous. He didn’t know why it got to him as much as it did. He was resolute to the principles of his Maker. What did it matter if they teased him so? Perhaps it made him feel like a fool. Or maybe his eyes were drawn to the very low line of Isabela’s blouse more than he’d like to admit, and he was feeling belittled for having his boundaries so brazenly disrespected. But as he looked passed her and over to Hawke, the man was staring at them all with a loving smile, and a sudden pressure formed under his ribs. With a quiet sigh, Sebastian swallowed his pride and said nothing.

“Daww, you’re blushing!~” But his embarrassment was not because of the breasts pressed against his arm, nor the smiling eyes that watched him shrink up and fluster. It was that he could not bring himself to do anything. Where he was normally bold and upfront with his opinions and actions, under the scrutiny of this small, smiling man, he felt abnormally out of his depth.

“You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed, Sebastian!” Merrill spoke up softly from behind a hand covering her mouth. He gave a weary smile back, purposefully looking away from Isabela and focusing back on the sky.

“So I’ve been told.” He muttered and he heard Garrett laugh.

“Alright, well. Enough of that. I don’t think Bash is going to pick up your hints anytime soon.” He approached the two and wrapped an arm around her waist to free Sebastian from her grasp, letting her cosy up to him instead. He straightened himself and felt for his bow to make sure it was still in place.

“His loss.” She snickered as Garrett led her away, and she played with his hair as they headed down the path. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how they could even stand upright with her leaning all over him like that, let alone walk. But as long as it kept her away from him…

Suddenly he felt a soft hand touch his arm and he turned to see Merrill gazing at him fondly. He scrunched his brow in way of question, but she only smiled and said nothing. She walked past him, looking down and away for a brief moment as she did, then back up to the two ahead. Starting off in a light jog, she caught up with them, leaving Sebastian to his thoughts.

It was no wonder he’d found himself out in a field while they dealt with the Dalish. Trying to understand Hawke and Company took far more effort than he had in him. Rubbing the back of his neck, he forced his legs to move after them, feeling far more tired than he should. He wished he had time for at least five more minutes of quiet cloud gazing…

As he got closer to the group, he heard Hawke grumbling to himself as he looked around wildly in thought and held the reins to his honey brown Ferelden forder, Isabela sitting atop the magnificent horse. He rubbed his dark beard, frowning at Sebastian when he met his eye. Merrill was leading his horse towards him, and he instantly realised the problem.

“Well, I don’t think any of us thought this through.” Garrett sighed, scratching the back of his head then switching the reins to his other hand. Isabela pat the horse’s burly neck, the animal seeming just as agitated as her master.

“We’re short on horses?” He took the reins of his dapple grey charger from Merrill and lead him over to the others. “What happened to Isabela’s?” The woman scoffed in a half-laugh but said nothing. Garrett spoke up.

“We bartered it.”

“Her.” Merrill corrected and Isabela nodded. Sebastian sighed.

“You bartered the horse? Why?” Garrett rubbed his face.

“It’s a long story, really. Something about it being a Dalish breed, and the inks we needed were very, very special for some ritual and they couldn’t spare them for just any trade--”

“Dhea’him-din.” Merrill chimed in distractedly, “They’re paints for funeral ceremonies.”

“Uhm, yeah that. And so we kind of traded the--wait, I thought the Dalish rode those elk things? How was it a Dalish breed?” Garrett looked over to Merrill for the answer, but she was preoccupied by a cluster of wildflowers growing on the dirt path. Sebastian rubbed his eyes, saying nothing about the Dalish All-Bred or the other dozens of wild horse breeds that the elves tend to. For all his wit and charm, Hawke could be a bit dense sometimes. Sebastian sighed.

Give me patience, Maker, for no trial lasts long enough to tarnish your glory.

“Right well, don’t think I’m going to be walking.” Isabela huffed, and Sebastian couldn’t wait to be back in the quiet of the Chantry.

“Well we started short one horse anyway, so two on each is no problem...but we had more room for stuff last time and less of it to carry back when we came.” Garrett tapped his foot and pursed his lips, trying to figure out how to fit the four large sacks on the horses without burdening them.

“I could carry it.” He offered half-seriously, headache slowly creeping behind his eyes. If it got them moving, so be it. It was already getting later in the day and he promised Grand Cleric Elthina he’d be back in time to prepare the Chantry for the All Soul’s Day festival. Which was exactly why they were up here buying paints from the Dalish in the first place, apparently.

“Don’t be ridiculous! I’m not making you walk all the way back to Kirkwall or making you carry anything. I doubt you’d get very far anyway.” Garrett’s horse stomped a hoof and huffed irritably, “I know, girl. We’re going.” Isabela groaned dramatically, fixing herself so that she was sitting side-saddle, legs crossed.

“So am I riding with you, Merrill with Sebs over there, and two packs on each?” She fixed her bandana nonchalantly but Garrett only shook his head.

“No, I couldn’t do that to poor Qalaba,” Why Hawke decided to name his horse cow in Qunlat, he’ll never really understand. It’s funny, He’d said, And kind of ironic, don’t you think? “She’s getting old.”

“Oh, I know! Sebastian's horse is pretty strong, right?” Merrill chirped, standing up with a bouquet of purple and yellow flowers, “So why don’t you two ride with the lighter packs, and me and Isabela ride Qalaba with the two heavier ones.” Sebastian blinked at her, and when he glanced over at Garrett, he was frowning.

“Merrill, I uhh. I don’t think that will work.”

“Why not? You two are way heavier than me and Isabela.” Garrett shifted his weight between his legs almost fidgety.

“Yes but--”

“Come on, sweet thing.” Isabela leaned down and ran a hand through his hair, “Your horse is fine. And it’s not like the Holy Knight is going to grope you on the way home. Well, I mean. Unless he expects a reward for your gallant rescue.” Sebastian shot her a glare, his face suddenly warm.

“I would never--” But Garrett cut him off.

“Isabela!” He pushed her hand away, “That’s not even the issue! Why are you like this, honestly!?”

“Did you hear that, kitten? The boys like your idea.” Isabela looked at Merrill and pat the back half of her saddle. She looked a bit confused but otherwise hopped up on the horse behind her. Garrett grumbled something under his breath, but all Sebastian heard was a quiet curse as he began packing the bags: “Andraste’s ass.”

The two tied up the packs in silence, glancing at each other now and then wondering just how uncomfortable the ride home was going to be squished together, especially after Isabela put that image into their minds.

Once everything was settled, Sebastian lifted himself into the saddle. The girls waiting atop Qalaba were giggling as Merrill wrapped her arms around Isabela from behind. He tugged slightly on the reins and Redimere snorted, clomping in place as he awaited orders. Garrett came to his side, staring up at him for a moment with puffed cheeks before sighing.

“So how are we doing this?” Sebastian’s throat clenched. Well, this was awkward. He felt childish having to share a horse with another grown man in the first place, but now it’s a whole new level of weird.

_ Thank you, Isabela for your outstanding mannerisms and sophisticated sense of humour. _ He mentally rolled his eyes.

“Do you want in front since I’m taller?” Garrett’s cheeks went red.

“Uh…yeah, I guess…” Hesitantly he climbed on. Sebastian had to grab his arm as he tried to stuff himself in the front, almost losing momentum and falling backwards. Sebastian scooted himself back against the cantle of his saddle to try and make room but it was barely enough. Garrett managed to wriggle his way in, covering his groin with his hands as to not squish any important bits, but neither of them were all too excited about moving.

“Okay so um...I guess I’m leading?” Hawke slowly took the reins and tried to push Redimere forward, but the stubborn beast only snorted. He didn’t budge.

“Awww, Hawkey dear. Having a bit of trouble?” Isabela turned Qalaba around with ease, trotting in a quick circle as they both snickered.

“Not my fault his horse is a bloody prude!” Garrett hissed, trying again to get them moving. But his attempts were useless and awkward with such little room and without his feet in the stirrups, “Oh sweet Maker--you do it!” He lifted his arms slightly so that Sebastian could reach around him and so, hesitantly, Sebastian wrapped his arms around the smaller man.

Isabela was never going to let them live this down. He was only relieved Varric wasn’t here to turn this into an elaborate tale of chivalry and, Maker forbid, romance.

With a simple flick of his wrists, Redimere started forward.

“Your horse is a prick, you know that?” Sebastian couldn’t help but chuckle a bit, even as he tried his best not to rub against Hawke more than he needed to.

“They say a horse reflects the personality of its rider.” Garrett huffed.

“Well then, you’re a prick.” He laughed and Hawke did the same, the air of tension slightly dissolving as they fell into silence.

As they rode towards Kirkwall, Isabella occasionally looked back at them and laughed or made some dirty joke which had them both red-faced and trying not to seem too uncomfortable for the sake of dignity. But halfway down the road, Garrett began to wriggle quite a bit, cursing under his breath now and then.

“I know there’s not much room, Hawke. But can you please try to move a bit less? We’re almost there.” Sebastian swallowed. He didn’t want to seem like a jerk, they were both hurting quite a bit at this point, but he really couldn’t focus with him squirming so much. Garrett went rigidly still.

“Actually...it’s uh, not the room that’s the problem.” He shifted a bit again and Sebastian’s mind suddenly went to a hundred different places, none of them exactly savoury. He too went still.

_ Oh, Maker, why is this happening? _

“Ah.” He said and could manage nothing else. He could only imagine why he was doing all that wriggling.

“Uh so...I dunno how to say this but, can you maybe… I dunno… take your belt off?” Sebastian forgot how to breathe. “It’s digging into my back.” He exhaled, wanting nothing more than to get off and run through the forest until he couldn’t stand. Or got eaten by a wyvern.

“I...yes. Yes of course.” He said flustered, pulling Redimere to a quick stop before unclipping the buckle and slipping it into one of his pouches. No need to seriously take his belt off… Thank Andraste it wasn’t attached, “That better?”

“Maker, yes. Thank you.” The girls, already ahead of them to begin with, noticed they’d fallen behind.

“You two lovebirds alright back there?” Isabela cooed with a grin and Hawke simply flipped her off. She scoffed, “You’re a jackass, you know that?”

“I learned from the best.” He defiantly crossed his arms and turned his head to act like he was ignoring her. She turned back around with a smile after calling him a “filthy blighter.”

The rest of the journey home was otherwise uneventful. Sebastian tried his best not to wrap his arms too tightly around Garrett and, after a while, the worst discomfort either of them suffered from was the heat. Being squished against each other didn’t exactly help them sweat less.

Once they made it to the gates of Kirkwall (both of them letting out sighs of relief when the city came into view) the sun was low in the sky, painting the surrounding mountains and fields a luscious Tuscany gold. The salty ocean air permeated the entire city, and the high ping of ship bells could be heard from the cliffside docks, even as they stabled their horses outside Hightown.

Finally off of the horse and on his own two feet again, Garrett stretched with a loud wail followed by a quick yawn.

“Thank the Maker that’s over.” He groaned and Isabela laughed, coming up behind him to wrap her arms around his waist.

“Admit it, you enjoyed every minute.”

“You’re right!” He exclaimed, making large gestures with his arms, “Sebastian makes a good pillow. I had a great nap.” Though he did no such thing. He watched them tiredly, ready to get back to the Grand Cleric.

“Lucky! I was top this time, so I had to do all the work while Merrill cuddled.” Merrill turned to look at them with a confused look from where she was petting Qalaba, but she clearly hadn’t heard anything they’d said other than her name. Garrett snorted.

“You really need to stop with the sexual Sebastian jokes.” But he was snickering along with her. They both looked over to him as he gave Redimere one final pat before handing the young stable boy a sovereign. At this point, he couldn’t care less as long as he got inside the city. While his armour had once been a beacon of warmth, it was quickly feeling like a cage, especially after having so little wiggle room for so long.

“What jokes do you mean?” She feigned ignorance and Hawke elbowed her and tried to make a face of decency.

“You know he doesn’t care for them. Can we at least try to pretend like we respect each other? For my sake?” Garrett put a hand on his back and pat him twice. Isabela pursed her lips.

“Oh you know I’m just playing!” She punched Sebastian’s arm, “Don’t worry, Gallant Knight. No one would dare question your honour.” Her voice was thick with sarcasm and Sebastian bit his tongue.

For Hawke. He told himself. It wouldn’t do any good if his friends started hitting each other. Why Isabela was in such a mood today, he couldn’t guess. But he wasn’t about to stick around to find out either.

“Well, if that’s all you needed for the day, Hawke. I should head back to the Chantry.” Garrett grabbed his arm suddenly as if just remembering something, and stared at him with earnest, solemn eyes.

“Oh? So soon?”

“I promised the Grand Cleric I would help prepare for the ceremony.” Hawke almost looked as though he was pouting. His small stature and the dark strands of unruly hair falling in his face made him seem so much younger. Vulnerable even. Maker, it was hard to imagine how this man survived an expedition into the deep roads looking like a kicked puppy…

“You’ll meet us later then? The party won't be nearly as fun without you.” Sebastian was a bit surprised. More exciting? With him? As a brother of the Chantry, the All Souls’ Day celebration was mostly spent in silent, sombre prayer for the departed. But being a Marcher himself, he knew most of the surrounding cultures around Starkhaven celebrated as they did, with parades and dancing. It was a celebration and remembrance of the lives, not deaths, of loved ones. As a Lothering Ferelden, Hawke’s first festival came when he settled in Kirkwall, and he had been celebrating ever since. But it had been many long years since Sebastian had personally participated in the revelry or midnight parades.

“I’m sure your party wouldn’t even notice I’m gone.” He smiled half-heartedly, patting Garrett’s arm so he could excuse himself from the group, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Hawke.” And he walked towards the gates of Hightown alone, feeling the prickle of the six eyes staring after him.

“I’d notice, you know!” He heard Hawke shout after him, and he smiled, raising a hand in acknowledgement as he continued forward, not looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter the friend dynamic! /cry end me now  
lol hope you enjoyed  
Also, the main title is a quote from Hamlet btw, should prolly mention that.  
Also also, my friggin indentations are wacked up, dunno what that's about so rip. Sorry about that''' *sweats*  
Also also also (someone stop me) I hate the first chapter so bear with me, I swear it's not all this shitty :''') it was pretty much me indulging myself with a one-shot..ish thing and the rest of the story just kinda kept coming after when it wasn't supposed to lmao. But my overall plot is masterful *evil laugh*; my small scene plots, however, not so much. So that's why it sucks pfft.


	2. Eyes of Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gross, a little kid.   
Sebastian contemplates some shit.  
A N D R A S T E ('s knicker weasles)  
Elthina is actually a saucy mom.

The streets of Hightown were bustling. Merchants were calling out their last-minute deals, children were scampering between the skirts of their mothers, and the men were hoisted high on ladders as they finished the last of the decorating before the sun went down. Many of them already had their faces painted and were dressed in long, iridescent silk gowns that glinted in the dying light or fine suits and tailored shirts. There was colour everywhere, people smiling and laughing with the occasional fond look of sorrow exchanged between friends and family in remembrance.

Suddenly a small boy came running towards Sebastian, a woman frantically trailing after him.

“Cain!” Her worried voice was all but drowned by the sound of the crowd.

Sebastian instinctively held an arm out to catch the boy, bringing him to an abrupt stop. In his arms, he carried a bundle of ribbons. So many, in fact, that he seemed to be swimming in them. The boy stared up at him with wide blue eyes, fear and shock written on his face. The woman quickly caught up with them, holding the bottom of her dress as she ran.

“Oh thank you, Messere!” She held a hand to her chest as she tried to catch her breath, a skull-like mask obscuring his view of her face, “I wouldn’t have caught him otherwise!” He nodded at her and looked down at the boy.

“Why do you run, child?” He chewed at his chapped lips. He looked as though he would say nothing, but after a moment his quiet voice picked up.

“She won’t let me wear the ribbons.”

“They’re for the girls, Cain! You know mother picked you out a suit to wear.”

“It’s itchy!” He fussed, pulling the ribbons tighter, “And you’ve got plenty!” Sebastian smiled down at him, then looked to the woman.

“Surely just one wouldn’t hurt?”

“I-I…” She stammered and he leaned down to the boy.

“Which is your favourite, lad?” He looked at them for a long moment, his small face scrunched and discerning. Then, without pause, he held up a thin green ribbon made of silk, “Ah, that one is rather nice.” Sebastian couldn’t help but smile as he gently grabbed the ribbon from the boy. He motioned to the woman and she quickly took the remaining bundle from him.

Still bent before the kid, he put the strip behind his neck and tied it into a small bow.

“There. That does nicely, don’t ya think?” He smiled up at him, a big toothless smile, and nodded his head enthusiastically.

“Thank you!” He beamed and Sebastian ruffled his hair.

“But I want you to remember something, can you do that for me?” The boy nodded and listened, “Don’t take things that are not yours. The Maker frowns on such behaviour.” He shrunk away a bit feeling scolded, but nodded again, slower this time. He looked Sebastian up and down and his face lit up when he saw his armour.

“Are you guard?” He chuckled as a small hand came up to touch his gauntlet.

“No, not a guard. I’m a priest.”

“A priest? Like in the Chantry?”

“Aye.” He said, and the woman suddenly stepped forward, seeming worried.

“Oh! Then you must be busy, today of all days! Please forgive us, messere!”

“No, it’s no problem, I assure you.” She tried to grab the boys arm to usher him away, but he pulled back from her, instead gripping onto Sebastian’s arm.

“Can I be a priest too?”

“Hush, Cain! The nice man has things he must do.” And she tried again to pull him away. Sebastian grabbed his hand, standing and gesturing for the woman to walk with him.

“I’m in no immediate hurry, it’s quite alright.” The three of them made their way across the market, Cain’s small hand still in his own, “As for your question, lad. Of course you can.” As they made it to the end of the street, he stopped and looked down at him, “But to be a priest, you must love the Maker more than anything in the world.” He rubbed the end of Cain’s makeshift tie gently, “Even ribbons.” And with that he nodded to the woman, taking his turn down the darker, quieter streets towards the Chantry.

_ Love the Maker more than anything. _

“More than anything.” He whispered to himself, smiling softly into the shadows as he headed up the steps, a swell of excitement dancing within his stomach. It was a good feeling, this certainty. That the one thing he loved more than anything was his Maker. After all, he knew what it was like to love nothing and no one, to feel lost and uncertain as he drifted on the throes of half-assed passions. But this? This was love. True, pure, holy. And there was nothing else like it.

He made his way up the Chantry steps, a few low lit torches were burning, the sun almost completely gone from the sky now. Hardly anyone was around, most of the civilians busy dressing or heading out to their social gatherings.

As for the Chantry, there was always a peaceful sermon in the morning, a silent nod to the fallen and a blessing of the Maker. But later in the day, the chapel fell silent until the true festivities began. Once the bells tolled twelve, the brothers and sisters would set the pyres ablaze in remembrance to their blessed Andraste.

When he finally passed through the large, ceremonial doors into the hushed halls of the church, he allowed himself a moment of silent nothingness as he had earlier. He leaned against the closed doors, sighing softly as he relaxed and emptied his mind.

What a long day it had been, and even still it was really just starting, wasn’t it? He wondered what Hawke was doing right about now.

_ Probably out causing mischief, as usual. _ A smile played at his lips.

Slowly, he looked up at the large statue of Andraste, the long shadow stopping just short of his boots. And here he was, standing before the bride of his Maker.

The air in the Chantry was a bit chilled for a summer night, and the thick smoke of incense hung stagnantly in the air, smelling wispily of embrium and sage. It was a scent that clung to all your clothes and hair and stuck in the back of your throat and, after long enough, seeped into your skin and under your fingernails. It comforted him in a way. It reminded him that this was home. This was who he was. Smoke, and fire, and ash. Just like Andraste.

There was a soft glow coming from behind the statue from a few torches that were lit on the upper floor. It outlined the metal with an orange hue that gleamed off the copper-gold surface and, at that moment--the jagged ends of her sunburst crown flicking like a vibrant star--she truly seemed to be consumed by fire.

A chill ran down his spine and an odd feeling swirled in his stomach, something he could not quite place. Like her gaze was fixated on him, peering into the depths of his being and seeing all of him as though he were laid bare and vulnerable before her. Like she knew something about him that even he didn’t.

A sudden feeling of shame snaked its way into his throat and his stomach churned.

_ What-- _

“Sebastian.” He stood tall at the sound of his name, raking a hand shakily through his hair. He was tired, he realised. Maker, he was dead tired and a sudden loneliness crept into his bones, making him want to sleep. “You have returned.”

“Aye, Your Grace.” It was the Grand Cleric, appearing as if from thin air, making her way towards him gracefully, “I ran a bit late. Hawke had an issue with his horses.”

“Oh? And how is Serah Hawke?”

“He is well, I believe. He plans to celebrate tonight with his comrades. He asked me to join them, but I declined.” Elthina was in front of him now, nodding to him in way of greeting before clasping her hands back together in front of her. Sebastian nodded in return, both of them heading deeper into the Chantry.

“Whyever for?” Sebastian frowned.

“Beg pardon, Your Grace, but I don’t understand the question.” She smiled at him.

“Why did you decline his offer?” Sebastian paused, looking over at her for a moment, not saying anything. He thought it was obvious. Especially should be obvious to the Grand Cleric…He was a brother, his duty was to Andraste before all else.

“I have my duties here,” he said slowly, feeling again the eyes of the golden statue staring down at him, “I was to help with the pyres.” Elthina, with that ever-persistent smile and aura of tranquillity, nodded at him.

“And Serah Hawke was okay with this?”

“He needn’t be okay with it if you’ll forgive my brashness, Your Grace. My duties to the Maker come before my own wants.” She kept her smile.

“You always do what you seem is best, Sebastian.” His heart grew lighter with the compliment, “And though the Maker expects much of His children, I do not believe he would want you to waste your youth in servitude.” A frown fell upon his lips. He was unsure of what to think. What was it that she was saying? “And you forget--Andraste knew the bitter sting of chains, my child. To celebrate her life, you must celebrate in freedom.”

“My...dedication to the Chantry is not servitude, Your Grace. Everything I do, I do of my own free will.”

“I know, and the Maker would ask of no less.” She put a hand on his arm, “But you have always been a wild spark, Sebastian. I want you to go home.”

“This is my home.”

“Go to your friends. Celebrate the bride, and enjoy yourself. You’ve been far too troubled as of late. Clear your head and heart. Spend your passions and return content.”

“But the ceremony--”

“Everything is in order.” She gave him a smirk and pushed him slightly, “Now go. And I don’t want to see you back until morning.”

“But, Your Grace, I just got here--?” But she just chuckled at him as a few priests appeared, rushing around without him to make preparations. It was as if she had snapped her fingers and summoned them. When he did not move, she looked at him expectantly, and he just stood with his legs locked and his mouth open. Was he being kicked out of the Chantry?

“The night won’t last forever, you know.” With no other choice and a heavy heart, he turned back towards the doors, leaving behind the quiet and the piercing golden eyes. The sound of the metal closing behind him hit hard like a blunt practice blade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tf why is this so short? Ree the next one is longer than me if I remember right, so ye it's gucci.


	3. Not Always By Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uhh lemme see what we've got here:  
Wine and roses. Well, maybe not exactly.  
Doge : 3  
Isabela's just a meanie head (or Sebs is a wuss, who knows)  
Leandra=best mom  
Also, mom...wtf kind of parties have you been to?  
FOOOOD  
Anders is anxiety and depression personified and it's prolly Justice's fault. Surprise, surprise.  
Garrett is going to choke to death (good, do us all a favor)  
Sebastian is like "damn bro"

It had been a weird day. It had been more than just a weird day.

_ This is horrible. _ But immediately he felt selfish for thinking so when Andraste had her life taken from her and here he was saying her day was horrible. Sebastian sighed. What was he supposed to do now?

He rubbed his eyes and sat at the top of the Chantry steps, looking out over the dark plaza. A few people rushed around in the flickering light of torches and braziers. Most of them were priests setting up the courtyard. He felt lazy sitting here watching while he should be helping.

It won’t do any good to disobey the Grand Cleric… But God, he wanted to help. Being useless was something he never planned on getting used to.

But Elthina wanted him to go...have fun? First of all, why? And second, where was he supposed to go? He already declined Hawke’s offer.

Would it be rude to show up after saying no? He wasn’t sure. It’s not like he had been invited to any kind of party recently, and even before he became a brother, he just did whatever he wanted regardless of mannerisms. But he respected Hawke, and Sebastian was far from the man he used to be. No, surely he couldn’t just show up unexpected.

_ Maybe a gift then? _

He groaned. It seemed “peace offering” fit better, and even the thought of such a pitiful display was enough to give him a headache. He hated being clueless. Fools were clueless.

Putting his head in his hands, sitting with his arms propped on his knees, he sighed again. Being social was hard. Now praying? That was easy. At least with the Maker, there was a list of rules set in stone, written out for you to read if you ever forgot or doubted yourself. And right now he was nothing but doubt and a whole lot of forgotten experience. Maybe he’d have been better at this if he stayed a prince. Well, he still was a prince…

He looked up, squishing the sides of his face with his hands as he stared up at the sky. It was a cloudy night and a feisty wind was swaying the festival streamers and, if he closed his eyes, he could almost mistake the sound for the rustling of treetops. It reminded him of home, the breeze in the trees on the slopes of high hills and mountains, the smells of the countryside sneaking into the city and the rushing of water wrapping itself around Starkhaven’s impenetrable walls.

He could almost smell it. Floral and earthy, like a garden full of heather or roses steeped in a subtle wine. Speaking of wine, he still had that bottle tucked in the bottom of his clothes chest. Surely it had once meant something special--why else would he have kept it once he became a brother?--but the significance of the bottle had long since eluded him, so there it sat. Ageing nicely for more than just a few years, moving from cabinet to cupboard to clothes chest. 

That’s it then. He stood, quickly heading back inside. Elthina didn’t seem all too pleased to see him so soon, but he just waved a hand, said “I’m going, I’m going!”, and made his way quickly up the stairs.

Though the Chantry had many beds and open lodgings for the clerics, the occasional orphan taken in, and even the tranquil that typically follow around the templars, Sebastian had his own small quarters. It was an old storage room that had been cleaned out and provided just enough space for a small single-sized bed and a cupboard with room enough that it wasn’t cramped or hard to walk in. He knelt by his bed, pulling out his chest of few belongings and opened the old latch. The damn thing was dusty like it hadn’t seen light in quite some time, and he coughed as the lid swung open.

He dragged out all of the old clothes--too large shirts and tattered pants that he no longer wore; the only outfit he did wear was neatly folded and placed on the cupboard. As he figured, the bottle was still at the bottom of the chest, the design of the neck twisting up in the shape of a thorned rose, the label so worn he could barely read it:

“Vint-9 ‘Rowan’s Rose;’ 9:8 Dragon, May she find peace with the Maker”

A twenty-five-year-old bottle, then. Dedicated to Queen Rowan when she died. Probably far older than the vintner--or any vintner--intended for it, but who knows. Maybe it’s still good? He certainly hoped so, seeing as a Ferelden wine would be the perfect gift for Hawke. Surely it was more of an antique decoration than drinking wine but regardless, it was the thought that counted.

He set the bottle to the side, stuffed all his clothes back where they belonged, and pushed the chest under the bed. He stood with a slight groan, his legs still a bit sore from the ride home, and quickly he undid the straps to his armour. Setting the breast and back plates on his bed to be dealt with later, he shoved off his mail coat and hung it on the bedpost before slipping out of his leathers and tossing his boots to the back corner.

Finally, in nothing but his braies, he stretched and rolled his shoulders before rubbing his hands over his face. He could feel the light prickle of stubble growing; he would have to shave soon.

He grabbed his folded outfit from atop the cupboard, shaking out the linen shirt and loose-fitting, dark brown ketill pants before slipping them on. He tucked the front of his tunic into his waistband and squat down to look under his bed for his smaller pair of ankle boots. He spotted them squashed behind the trunk he just shoved under there and groaned, dropping to his knees to reach for them. After tugging them free, pulling them on and lacing them, he stood. He ran a hand through his hair and loosely tied the string on his low cut shirt collar so that the front wasn’t hanging open.

He threw on his long, tan overcoat, tucked the wine carefully under his arm, and headed back out, making sure to nod to the Grand Cleric, a very confused Grand Cleric, on his way out.

Great. Now time to do as he was told. Friends! Huzzah!

But when he thought of sitting in a group of all Hawke’s friends, he groaned and dragged himself down the steps and towards Garrett’s Hightown estate. Maybe they would all be drunk and wouldn’t stare at him with such critical glares? Or maybe he could find a nice corner to sit in and pray while they pretended he didn’t exist.

The air was brisk as he passed civilians adorning masks and body paints, giggling as they danced down the streets in anticipation.

Approaching the mansion, he ran his free hand through his hair and knocked on the door. He waited and after a while, there was no answer. He knocked again.

Surely he hadn’t gone to sleep? The true festivities hadn’t even begun yet, and he couldn’t imagine Garrett shirking away from a chance to get piss drunk and losing his life’s earnings to Varric in a game of wicked grace. He smiled at the thought.

Suddenly the door opened, and a very strapping woman greeted him. The sleeves of her dress were rolled up to her elbows with a small, flour-dusted apron covering her clothes. Her dark, silver-lined hair was tied up in a messy bun and she looked him over once before speaking.

“Yes?” She stared at him, eyebrows raised with her hands on her hips.

“I...is Serah Hawke--?”

“Oh! You must be that Sebastian fellow Garrett said was coming!” He forced a smile as she grabbed him by the arm, gently but demanding, and pulled him inside, “You can come right in, I was just finishing up dinner for everyone. The group is upstairs in Garrett’s room, I think.” She hurried past him saying little else, leaving him in the foyer with a confused smile, wine in hand. He adjusted his coat, taking a moment to look around and breathe.

Suddenly Hawke’s mabari, Aubin, peeked his head in from the main room, tongue hanging out of his mouth. He barked, loud and hearty, at him. Once, twice, then a third time before rushing over to him and flopping down at his feet. Sebastian chuckled, bending down to pet him, not sure if he should just walk in the house or what…

“What’s wrong, boy?” He heard Garrett call from the other room and he froze, not really knowing why. What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to do? He stood.

Hawke appeared in the doorway, pausing when he saw him standing there. Neither of them spoke as they just gauged the situation, staring at each other as if making sure they were both really there. Garrett spoke first.

“Hello there.” He simply spoke, and Sebastian’s heart felt lighter. It would be Hellos then. Hawke always did make things easy.

“Hello.” He said and Garrett smiled at him, chuckling slightly before looking to his hound, clapping his hands together once loudly.

“Well!” He beamed and the dog jumped up to greet his master, “You convinced him to come, didn’t ya boy? I knew you would. No one can resist your noble charm and your--agh gross. Nevermind, I could do without your charm. Your breath is vile, dog.” He pushed the mabari off of him and he whined for a moment before running into the house to bother someone else, “Remind me to never let him lick me again, will you?” They laughed as he wiped his face on his sleeve, “But wow you look great when you’re not in your armour. You should take it off more often!” Sebastian rubbed at the bottle handle, feeling a bit awkward now that it was pointed out, and he felt naked without the weight of his scaled coat. Garrett glanced down at his fidgety hands.

“What’s that you’ve got there?” Sebastian held out the bottle to him.

“It’s for you. For arriving unexpected, though it seems you were waiting for me regardless...” Garrett stared at him for a moment before gingerly taking the wine. He rubbed his thumbs slowly over the decorated handle, smile on his lips.

“You didn’t have to get me anything, you know.”

“I thought it only fair since I said I wouldn’t be coming and did anyway.”

“Plans change. It’s not unreasonable.” Sebastian’s stomach churned.

“Do you not like it?” Garrett looked up at him with confused eyes.

“Oh, I do seem ungrateful, don’t I?” A wide, genuine smile made it across his face and he pat Sebastian’s arm, “I love it, Bash. Thank you truly.” He looked down at the bottle again, admiring the craftsmanship.

“I’m glad. Though I must admit I can’t account for the taste. It’s rather old.” He huffed a chuckle.

“Ah, I’m sure it’s fine. After drinking the piss-spit they serve in the Hanged Man, anything is great in comparison.” Sebastian grimaced. He actually drinks the stuff they serve there? “Besides, this seems more like a collector’s piece anyway. It’s rather pretty.”

With a loud bark, Aubin suddenly bolted around the corner, tripping on the rug as he slid back into the foyer, a whorl of giggling following him. On his tiny tail, a piece of blue cloth was tied. He rubbed his back against the ground, trying to shake the thing off.

Isabela came stumbling behind him, clutching her stomach as she tried to stop laughing. Merrill was right behind her, looking more worried than amused, but when Isabela saw Aubin squirming on the ground, eyes wild and slobbery mouth wide open in a huge dog-grin, she lost it and sunk to the ground in hysterics.

“Oh for the love, why are you pestering my poor dog?” Hawke kicked her, which was really more of a tap with his foot, set the wine down for a brief moment, then grabbed the cloth from the dog’s tail.

“Awww, no why’d you take it off?” Isabela chuckled as Merrill poked her head in the door, staying away from the immediate chaos. Garrett just sighed at her, smirking as he bent down and the laughs finally settled.

“Fine, I’ll put it back on.” And he wrapped it around her ankle instead, tying it with a punctuated pull so that it was tight but not enough to hurt. Picking up the bottle, he stood.

“Oh, haha! Very funny.” She tried to push him while she pulled herself off the floor. She bent over to undo the knot, but she couldn’t get it untied, “Look what you’ve done now, you shit.” She laughed, faking a whine as she tried to get it off, “Oh come on, help me with this.”

“Nah, I’m not feeling it. I think I’ll take it off later.” She pouted at him.

“The hell did you do to it anyway?” And Garrett just smirked and wiggled his fingers at her. Isabela’s eyes widened, “Did you seriously just cast a spell to this damn thing so I couldn’t take it off?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. No apostates here. I’m related to a Templar, you know. So I don’t appreciate you suggesting--”

“Rhett! Take it off me!” With a lopsided smile, she grabbed his arm and shook him lightly. He couldn’t keep a straight face, “You filthy little cur!”

“So anyway,” he said, turning back to Sebastian, “Sorry about that, I’m being a poor host, and standing around here isn’t my idea of a good time.” He stepped to the side, gesturing for Sebastian to go ahead of him. Rubbing his hands together idly, he walked into the house.

The air was warm from the low fire burning in the hearth and it smelled like a feast. His stomach growled. He hadn’t realised just how hungry he was. It was a bad habit really, but he constantly forgot that he needed food. He’d maybe eat something light in the morning--some bread or a fruit--and have a cup of black coffee, and by the time lunch came around, he was so caught up in his mind that his cramping stomach went completely unnoticed. Then when supper came around he was exhausted and starving and would eat just about anything quick to stave the feeling. On a busy day, he’d even just ignore it and fall asleep. Needless to say, it’d been a long time since he’d had a meal of any substance, especially since his life in the Chantry was the pinnacle of simplicity and he stayed away from luxury.

But Garrett’s life was luxury. Every piece of clothing he owned had his name embroidered in them; he dined with real silver and ate exquisite meals, drank fine wines and exotic beverages; he slept on silk pillows with combed fur blankets and heated river stones. Even just looking around the main room he felt antiquated and out of place. And it was strange. Never before had he felt so common, so plain. He was a prince surrounded by wealth yet he was a stranger. Perhaps he felt he was intruding? He couldn’t be certain, but such a large home, such nice things...it just didn’t seem right. It didn’t seem like Hawke, the man whose hair was always brushed the wrong way and face never clean-shaven.

And how different they were! A nobleman living like a commoner and a farmer’s son living like a king. He thought himself a noble prince clutching the jesses of his great hawk, but it was more likely a simple priest shadowing a hero.

Yet he imagined himself a year from now if he took back his throne in the name of the Maker, standing tall and proud with Garrett kneeling before him. He’d knight him. Not that it’d mean anything. but it would honour him, and God but Garrett would look amazing adorned in the red of Starkhaven. Adorned in that fine silk, kneeling before him with sunbeams playing through his hair, his amber eyes--

Garrett was snapping at him.

“Earth to Sebastian. Hello??” He blinked, looked over at him, and realised that everyone else was staring too.

“Sorry...it seems I spaced out. I’ve just never been in your house before and it got me thinking.” Isabela smirked from behind Hawke.

“Oh? What about? Thinking of where he sleeps?” She stood next to Garrett and grabbed his arm, pushing herself against him. She was trying to provoke him again. He could tell by the way she looked under her eyelashes, gaze heavy and mischievous.

“I was just thinking that I couldn’t see Hawke living in a place like this, so it was rather strange.” He huffed and Garrett raised a brow. Of course, he was going to leave out the parts about Starkhaven. The dark-haired man would look good in a deep red, and that’s all. Not that Isabela needed to know he thought so. She’d take it grossly out of context like she did everything he said.

“What’s wrong with my house?” Hawke pouted.

“Nothing, hun. Mr Superiority Complex over there just doesn’t know how to appreciate class. He probably sleeps on the stone floor of the Chantry to appease the Maker or something.” Sebastian frowned, his tongue feeling light and scratchy as he tried not to say anything. He bit the inside of his cheek, letting out a strangled sigh from his nose.

“Isabela, go see if mother needs anything, will you? Please?” Garrett cut in as he had earlier, standing between him and Isabela. Maker, it was annoying having to have Garrett stand up for him, but he was thankful. Isabela looked him in the eye and smirked with such a smug smile of victory that Sebastian’s stomach sunk. He hated this.

“Of course, sweet thing.” And she walked off, slow and sultry as if to tease him further. Merrill let out a very loud breath as she disappeared behind the door.

“I’m so sorry, Sebastian!” She said in a quiet flurry, rushing up to him and grabbing his arm gently, “I told her not to be so mean but Isabela just does what she wants. She never listens to me!” She looked on the verge of tears and it all but split his heart in two.

“No, no it’s alright,” He smiled at her, trying to be reassuring, “Besides, sometimes I do sleep on the floor of the Chantry, so she wasn’t wrong. Though I actually have a nice cosy rug.” He tried his hand at a joke to lighten the mood, but Merrill stared at him with wide eyes. Garrett snorted.

“Whyever would you do that? You’ll catch a cold, you know.” She peeped.

“He lives in the Chantry, Merrill. It’s like when you fell asleep by the fireplace when reading.” She opened her mouth and closed it once before finally speaking.

“You really live in the Chantry, Sebastian?” He chuckled, his heart a little lighter now.

“Where else would I live?” She frowned in thought.

“I mean, Hawke has a few extra rooms. I bet he wouldn’t mind letting you stay,” He looked up at Garrett and they both stared at each other, “Surely it would be better than being cooped up in the Chantry, wouldn’t you say Hawke? I mean, even I have my own home, as dingy as it may be sometimes.”

“I mean…” Garrett scratched the back of his neck, “I never really thought about it, but I... wouldn't mind.” Sebastian stared, his heart beating in his ears.

He had no reason to decline, he realized. Every reason to accept.

And he felt a part of him wanting to accept. Instinctively, he spoke.

“No,” He said, “I’m fine in the Chantry. And I’m sure the Grand Cleric would miss me if I were gone.” He laughed nervously, looking away from the both of them. Merrill sighed, soft and somewhat sombre.

_ What was I thinking? I couldn’t possibly stay here, what in the Maker’s holy name-- _

“Oh, you’re right. I’m sure she gets awfully lonely there without you. Poor Elthina.” He wasn’t sure what to say, especially since it certainly didn’t seem like ‘Poor Elthina’ earlier tonight.

More like Poor Sebastian.

They all fell into a thick, awkward silence, Merrill completely oblivious to it as she held softly onto his arm, lost in thought. Garrett glanced over at him, then looked away as he shifted his weight between his feet.

He didn’t know how he got like this. Every time he came around, all of them ended up uncomfortable or angry and he couldn’t even begin to explain how or why. The conversation always shifted towards Sebastian’s vows, Sebastian’s prayers, Sebastian’s living situation. And he wasn’t some shy, weird, cringey--whatever it was he seemed around them, but he felt like there was so much he’d done wrong simply by not saying anything. Maybe it was that none of them liked how religious he was, or he seemed arrogant because he was royalty or some other misconception based on his titles and appearances. He wanted to show them who he was. Who he really was: Garrett’s friend, just like them.

But the bold, headstrong, straightforward Sebastian Vael that he knew recently started running at the sight of Garrett Hawke. And in his wake, he left this silent husk of a man that did nothing but stand and take insult after insult, grin and bear every awkward situation just to see Hawke smile.

_ He deserves to smile _ \--He told himself-- _ And as his friend, it’s my job to make sure he does. _

Not that it was even working. It was rather making it worse.

“Anyway,” Hawke finally said and Sebastian could feel himself tense. He cleared his throat, “I think dinner’s done?” Merrill perked up, finally letting him go.

“Ah good, I’m starving.” She said, following as Garrett led them both towards the door Isabela went though. Sebastian lagged behind the two of them, his stomach in knots. Suddenly he wasn’t so hungry.

They passed into Hawke’s small library, the fireplace crackling at them low and steady. A simple maroon fauteuil was pushed into the corner against some of the shelves. A few books were stacked against one of its legs, and a large, Imperial looking statue stared down at them from above the hearth with a wicked, puckered-lipped smile. Sebastian frowned at the thing, wondering why in the Andraste’s name Hawke would ever purposely put that in his house.

Up a small case of stairs, there was a giant open space where a long mahogany table had been set with at least a dozen chairs. There was an open wall with a rail that overlooked the foyer, he realised. Isabela was leaning against it, her back to them as Leandra bustled around, setting bowls and fixing silverware like a common housemaid would. It was odd. He imagined the Lady of the house would hire servants to do such simple things…

“Mother, what did I tell you about working yourself thin?” She looked up at him with a caramel smile and stood still for a moment. She folded her hands together in front of her, Isabela turning around at the sound of them.

“Oh, nonsense. You can’t expect me to just stand around when things need to be done, can you?” Garrett chuckled, pulling her into a small hug and kissed her on the cheek.

“Yes, well. I know you could tame wild mabari if you wanted to, mother, but that doesn’t mean you should. I think two dogs is quite enough.” She laughed and gave him a quizzical look.

“Two?”

“Well I mean, Aubin is such a good boy, I would love another, but Carver--?” She smacked him on the arm.

“Oh hush, you. If anything, you used to be more dog-like than Carver. You used to roll in the dirt and everything! I begged your father for weeks to make you stop, but you just wouldn’t listen to either of us.”

“Mother!” Hawke rubbed the back of his neck and Merrill perked up, eyes gleaming fondly.

“Oh, can you imagine? A little dirty Hawke!”

“I can certainly imagine.” Isabela chuckled and the man coughed awkwardly.

“Yes, well let’s not.” He pulled out a chair, waving his arm for anyone to sit, “but food’s getting cold. Go ahead and make yourselves at home.” He glanced over to Sebastian and startled a moment, “Oh! Sebastian, I’m sorry, let me take your coat!” Leandra looked up from setting down plates and tisked.

“Honestly, what will I do with you, Garrett?”

“I’m trying, mother. I swear I am!” He chuckled. Feeling like it would be rude to refuse, Sebastian slipped off his coat, folded the shoulders together, and handed it to him, “Sorry about that again, but I’m going to get Varric so I’ll just put this up for you.”

With that, he jogged out of the room, leaving them with Leandra. The three of them picked a seat. Merrill sat near the middle, Isabela quickly picking the seat to her right. Leandra sat in front of Merrill and Sebastian opted to sit to her right as well, as far from Isabela as he could get while still being inclusive.

“So!” Leandra beamed, “Are you ladies enjoying yourselves? I know Garrett is an awful host.” Isabela smiled at her.

“It’s been lovely. Could use a few kegs of ale, some prostitutes, and a whip or two, but otherwise, I’ve had fun. Rhett is a pretty shit host though.” Leandra looked at her with a mischievous smirk.

“Well, it’s been a while since I’ve been to a party like that, but maybe next time I can throw something together?” Sebastian went red at the idea. That really wasn’t how he wanted to picture Hawke’s mother.

_ Oh, Maker, that’s an image. _

Isabela opened her mouth to say something but stopped herself and stared for a long moment.

“No, wait. Seriously?” She asked in disbelief. Merrill just stared, confused.

“What’re the whips for? That doesn’t sound like a fun party…”

Isabela was laughing heartily again. Something she seemed to do often, he noted, somewhat annoyed by the sound for no particular reason, “Did I miss something dirty again?”

“What’re they on about now?” A sudden deep voice came from further down the table to his right and he looked to see Fenris glowering two seats down. He jumped slightly. When had he gotten there?

“You don’t want to know.” He mumbled back and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The elf raised a brow at him but otherwise said nothing, and the others didn’t even seem to notice him, the three of them drifting off into some conversation about...nugs?

But seriously. When did he get there?

Hawke suddenly jogged back into the room.

“O-kay,” he rubbed his hands together, immediately taking the seat between Sebastian and Fenris, “They’re coming. Anders is having a mini-crisis--” he raised a hand when Isabela went to ask, “Not important as to why--so Varric is with him. But can we eat now? I think I’ll die if I don’t eat in the next twenty seconds.” He grabbed the nearest bowl of food and started shovelling things onto his plate. Leandra reached across Sebastian to swat at him.

“Don’t take it all. I swear you and Carver would do nothing but eat if I let you.” Garrett made an offended sound as he set the bowl of potatoes down and started grabbing some ham.

“Correction: I could just keep eating if you let me, Carver does keep eating, even when you don’t. That’s why he’s so fat.”

“Garrett.” She scolded, but he only shrugged.

“Can’t help it if it’s true.” He grabbed a bowl with buns, taking two before offering it to Sebastian, “Bread?” He smiled and took it from him, adding one to his plate before passing it down. They all went around like that, Garrett or Isabela grabbing a bowl or plate or saucer and passing it down in opposite directions until plates were being passed over themselves and clustered in weird places. Leandra eventually scowled at Garrett and told him to stop scrambling everything or she was making Sebastian switch places with her. That made the man huff and groan about not doing anything.

“It’s Isabela!” He pouted, but Leandra only hushed him.

Suddenly Anders shuffled slowly to the top of the steps. Sebastian instantly saw him, but Garrett and the girls kept passing plates and talking excitedly. He was sure Fenris noticed too, but he was also sure Fenris noticed everything. He stood awkwardly, dressed uncharacteristically in a loose linen shirt and simple trousers, not saying anything and not making his way towards the table. Finally, Varric came up too and gently put a hand on the mage’s back, urging him forward.

“C’mon, Blondie.” He heard Varric mutter softly, “They won't bite.”

“That’s not the issue.” Anders’ voice was scratchy and he cleared his throat quietly after speaking. Hawke finally took note of them and instantly he hushed. He stopped reaching for whatever it was Merrill was handing him and stood, looking like he was going to rush towards them but Varric raised a hand to stop him. Everyone quieted and stared at the tall, blonde man whose brow was furrowed, eyes dark and sunken, lips a straight line.

“It’s not polite to stare, you know.” He mumbled, dragging himself to the seat across from Hawke. Varric sat next to him, in front of Fenris and, as he settled, Garrett shifted his eyes hesitantly to the rest of the table.

“Merrill, will you pass me the jelly again, please darling?” Hawke asked to divert attention mostly, and again everyone settled into a chatter, quieter this time.

But Sebastian watched him. Of course, he didn’t outright stare, but he was a rogue for a reason. Every now and then he would take sly glances at him, linger a bit longer than he should.

And Anders looked awful. He hardly moved to put anything on his plate, most of what was there was because of Hawke or Varric.

“You need to eat something, Blondie.”

“Here, Anders. Have some of this, you’ll like it.” But they never stopped to make a show of it or hound him, only gently encouraged. He wondered what had happened.

Perhaps something with the demon that lurks in his head. Sebastian’s mouth went dry. He admitted he didn’t understand the mage or any of his radically outlandish decisions. He understood less why Hawke decided to keep his company, even disapproved of it. But here the man was so weak and sombre, staring aimlessly down at his plate as if he couldn’t even see the world around him. He seemed harmless. Broken.

Like a young man receiving news that his family had been slaughtered, all in the name of politics.

“Are you going to eat, Sebastian?” He felt Garrett shove his arm gently and he shook his head, “You’ve been awfully spacey too…you alright?”

“Just a bit tired is all.” He admitted, “And my feathers are still a bit ruffled after getting kicked out by Elthina.” He didn’t know why he said as much, but he stared as Garrett suddenly choked on the roll he was eating.

He patted his back gently, not sure what to do as the man coughed and...laughed? And was he crying? After a minute, Garrett cleared his throat, took a long drink of his wine, then wiped his eyes.

“You got kicked out? Like, of the Chantry?” He coughed one more time, trying to catch his breath. Varric smirked up at them.

“Finally! Choirboy does something interesting! Do tell.” Even Anders glanced up, and Fenris leaned forward to look around Garrett. The girls hadn’t heard him though, and Isabela stopped giggling suddenly when she noticed the others drawing in.

“Wait, what did I miss--?”

“It was nothin’, really.” He said before anyone could inform her, “She just thought I needed to get out more. Do youth things, ya know.”

Garrett wailed and slammed his hand against the table, making Anders jump and Leandra frown.

“‘Youth things?’ The Grand Cleric said that?” Sebastian couldn’t help but laugh at his ridiculously scrunched face, “What the hell does that even mean!?”

“Well, okay. No. She said it a lot more poetically, but it was somethin’ like that anyway.” He smirked, “Pushed me out too. Winked an’ everything.” Garrett couldn’t breathe and Varric chuckled too, a low gritty sound that made him smile. Anders scrunched his brow at him, disbelieving.

“Really? You’re not having us on are you?” Varric pat the mage heartily on the back, happy that he spoke, and Sebastian found himself smirking too.

“I tell the Maker’s honest truth.” He put a hand over his chest.

“I’m having a hard time imagining the Grand Cleric doing anything that…saucy.” Anders finally smiled and for some reason, he felt a swell of pride. But Garrett was probably going to die. Sebastian was pretty sure he was choking again.

“Wait, so what happened?” Isabela frowned at them, “Bash got kicked out of the Chantry, am I hearing right?”

“Well, well, Choirboy. I didn’t think you had it in you.” Varric took a swig of his wine then smirked at him, “Keep that up and you might be worthy of being the random five-second priest cameo. You got a while before you’re protagonist ready though.”

That wasn’t supposed to be a compliment, right? His smile dropped. Somehow that seemed rather ironic, but he couldn’t place exactly why. Hawke nudged him with his elbow.

"Trust me, priest cameo is a lot better than the protagonist in one of Varric's tales. He's been on a kick where I'm his main character, and let me tell you…" The rogue scoffed at him.

"Priest cameo is better than the protagonist? Please, Hawke, you wound me! There's no depth to an altar boy! No gripping tale of heroism! Just chant this, chant that."

"And you think I make a good protagonist? Really? Do you know the most daring thing I did today, Varric? I didn't brush my teeth. Yes, you heard me! How scandalous!" As Varric launched into his explanation of all the stupidly miraculous things Hawke did daily--all of which were somehow unknown to the man himself--Sebastian felt someone tap him softly under the table. He glanced over to see Leandra looking at him softly. She leaned a bit closer to him.

“Thank you for coming,” She spoke low enough so only he could hear, everyone else distracted by their own conversations, “Garrett was really hoping you would show up. ‘He’s just got to come!’ He kept saying.” She smiled and laughed softly, glancing over to the man who was beaming and animated as he talked wildly. Sebastian smiled too, despite himself.

“Of course, m’lady. It’s my pleasure.” She pat him a few times on the arm fondly, much like Garrett often did, and he thought it sweet how like his mother the man could be.

“You’re such a gentleman, too! If only Garrett could learn a thing or two!” She smiled warmly, “But don’t let him get to you. He’s been rather lonely without Carver around, whether he’ll admit it or not, so don’t let him push you around too much. If he starts getting overbearing, just let me know.” Sebastian glanced over to Garrett who was currently stuffing his face while listening to some tale Varric was making up on the sly.

“I’m sure he could never be as much,” He said, turning back to her, “I do rather enjoy his company, even if he can be a bit… extravagant sometimes.” Leandra stared at him as if she wanted to say something further, but after a long moment, she gave him a final pat and said nothing, turning her attention back to Isabela who was waving her down. She glared at him, quick and sly, before starting up a chat with Leandra.

Sebastian, for once, paid her no mind, instead doing likewise and turning back to the other side of the table where everyone was laughing--or in Hawke’s case, occasionally snorting--with red faces and wide toothy grins. He found it infectious and he was soon smiling along with them.

For hours they laughed, drank, told stories, all the while Hawke shovelled food into his mouth and choked when he laughed. Sebastian couldn’t help but grimace at his manners, but at the same time, there was something so endearing about how carefree he was. His laugh was deep and rich and, even if he did make weird little noises from time to time, it was soothing to listen to. Wholesome, genuine, true. And somehow he got the others to open up as well, live a little freer and feel lighter. Even Anders was smiling and chuckling at the goof of a man. He watched and smiled, admiring the spectacle as faces gleamed and jokes were passed like mystery candies, never knowing the flavour until it hit full force in a fit of laughter. Each of them piped up and riled each other on, bellowing out witty one-liners and yelling over each other, passing plates this way and that until no one could tell which was truly theirs. And though there was a mess and he had hardly touched his food, he couldn’t help but admire the camaraderie, the willingness to let go and relax amongst friends despite the troubles lurking just outside the room where their real lives would begin anew.

Real-life. What a strange concept that was. He had forgotten how it felt to separate the dedicated priest from the carefree boy that still lurked on the inside. Since Elthina had given him a new view on life--ever since the Maker had shown him there was a better way to live than simply being swept away by meaningless fancies--he had cut himself out of casual living. And he had gotten so good at being good, but suddenly he was having fun again and he wanted so badly to slip back into that free-spirited young man. The one who could’ve hit them all with a joke so dirty it would’ve had them reeling and red-faced. The one who would’ve felt right at home amongst this jabbering chaos.

As though a snap resounded in the recesses of his consciousness and separated him from the picturesque daydream, he suddenly felt alone. He glanced down at what was left of his meal, smile fading as he tried to shove the feeling back down his throat. He gently placed his cutlery aside his plate and folded his hands in his lap before looking back up at them all, this time feeling more a part of the tableware than the company.

He was a fool to have thought otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter family dynamic! /more crying  
l o n g chapter I think. Idk I can't tell, sue me.  
This entire story is just filler I have decided. I hate it all, burn it.


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